


mind if i check you out?

by earthandsky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Background Minty and Linctavia, Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthandsky/pseuds/earthandsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Literally, he’s the only clerk to get requests from patrons,' Monty had told Clarke a few days ago, rolling his eyes. 'People come to the desk with all of their stuff and will specifically ask for Bellamy to check them out.'</p><p>Raven had grinned. 'I think they’d rather check <em>him</em> out.'</p><p>Monty had pulled a face, but didn’t disagree.</p><p>Apparently Clarke was meeting him today. And he was going to train her. Awesome."</p><p>Bellarke Library AU.</p><p>Two-shot! Rating will almost certainly go up in chapter two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mind if i check you out?

* * *

 

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when she started working as a page at the public library down the street, but she definitely didn’t expect to be this sore. After waking up after the first week of work, she felt a little bit like she had after her mom had dragged her to pilates that one time – stiff muscles, sore feet, and just generally unhappy.

 

Her boss was nice, though. Well, actually – nice might not have been the best word to describe Lexa. Actually, nice was nowhere close to being the right word to describe her, but after Clarke’s interview she kept talking about all of her “leadership potential” and because of that, had gone out of her way to make sure that Clarke was enjoying her job. Plus, she was kind of hot. That definitely helped a little.

 

They had walked her through the basics over the course of the week – Raven, one of the other pages, who had a smile so bright it made Clarke instantly reciprocate every time, had been the main person training her, and they instantly hit it off. They seemed to have the same taste in books, movies, music – even, coincidentally, the same taste taste in boys.

 

“Wait, wait – you mean – _you’re_ the girl Finn wanted to take to his grandmother’s birthday party?” Raven asked, jaw dropping.

 

Clarke had nodded a little sheepishly. “I – yeah, uh. I guess that’s me.”

 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Raven said laughing. Which, Clarke was glad of, considering that Raven had just revealed that _she_ was Finn’s infamous girlfriend, who he tried to cheat on by making a move on Clarke at a party. Clarke had shut that down pretty quickly, even though she had liked Finn a little, before she knew he had a girlfriend. And, apparently, was a cheating asshole.

 

“You’re way too cool for him, you know,” Raven said after a moment, smiling a little. Clarke gave her a small, grateful smile.

 

“You, too.”

 

Raven had looked at her for a moment appraisingly and then grinned back. “So, want to learn how to check in books?”

 

Nearly a week had passed, and Clarke had been in the library nearly every day, and at this point, she’d met most of the other staff. There was Monty, one of the other pages, who from the very first day would excitedly hand over CDs that he thought Clarke might like. There was Miller, one of the clerks, who sat behind the circulation desk and was quiet, usually, unless Monty was nearby. There was Anya, Lexa’s boss, whose expression was always closed-off and severe, and who kept her office door closed (and sometimes locked). Clarke had yet to see since her interview.

 

But, all in all, it was a pretty good group. Most of them were around her age, which was a little surprising, but in a good way. Clarke had taken this job pretty much straight out of undergrad, unsure of what she wanted to do next and just looking for something to do in the meantime so that she could make a little money to pay her half of the rent on the apartment she and Wells were sharing while she spent the year trying to decide between pursuing an MFA in painting, or going to med school. But, from what she’d seen so far, she was starting to really like this place.

 

—

 

“So, last day of training, huh?” Raven said early Monday morning as she patted Clarke’s shoulder, shuffling around her to the locker. Raven flashed a big smile, through a yawn, and nudged her shoulder again. “You nervous?”

 

“Nervous?” Clarke looked at Raven confused, and then paled. “We don’t have to put the picture books back in order again, do we?”

 

Raven laughed. “Nah. But, you’re training with Bellamy today.”

 

“Oh,” Clarke said. “Cool.” Because, really, what else was she supposed to say? She hadn’t met Bellamy – he was on vacation (Miller mentioned something about a family history trip to the Phillipines) when she started training – but she had heard stories. Apparently, one of the old pages, Murphy, had been pushed into a trashcan by Bellamy when they were doing the outdoor book drops together because of something Murphy said about his sister. Somehow, out of the whole ordeal, Murphy managed to get fired instead of Bellamy. One of the other clerks, Indra, refused to take a shift if Bellamy was working at the same time. From what Clarke had heard, half the staff either hated him or was terrified of him, but the patrons _loved_ him.

 

“Literally, he’s the only clerk to get _requests_ from patrons,” Monty had told Clarke a few days ago, rolling his eyes. “People come to the desk with all of their stuff and will specifically ask for Bellamy to check them out.”

 

Raven had grinned. “I think they’d rather check _him_ out.”

 

Monty had pulled a face, but didn’t disagree.

 

Apparently Clarke was meeting him today. And he was going to train her. Awesome.

 

—

 

Clarke checked her watch, then walked over to the circulation desk. Miller was sitting there, an empty stool beside him. Clarke checked her watch again and sighed. “Does he normally come late?”

 

Miller huffed out a small laugh, and shrugged a shoulder. “Not really. But, his flight just got in at like, 6am this morning. He’s probably just a few minutes behind.”

 

Clarke bit her lip. “I’ve just been standing here for fifteen minutes. Shouldn’t I – I mean, I know I’m still training, but could I at least shelve or something? There’s a half-empty cart of DVDs calling to me, Nate.”

 

Miller laughed and shrugged again. “Sure, go for it. He’ll find you when he gets here, the place isn’t that big.”

 

Which is how, just a few minutes later, Clarke found herself with a stack of DVDs in her arms. She realized about halfway through shelving that the pile she had chosen was _way_ too big – she could barely see over the top of the stack, which made finding their correct place on the shelf practically impossible. But, she couldn’t just put everything down, not at this point – she’d wind up dropping most of it and not only would that be loud and super embarrassing, but the order would be all messed up and –

 

She ran into something, hard, the stack of DVDs flying everywhere. Clarke immediately scrambled to gather them, and apology ready on her tongue.

 

“Hey, _watch it_ , princess,” a deep, annoyed-sounding voice, boomed from above her. The apology that Clarke was beginning to form shriveled on her tongue. She paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes, before she looked up to see a tall, moderately muscular man with dark hair, tan skin, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose scowling down at her. Clarke felt her mouth go dry for just a second (what, he was stupidly attractive, and she wasn’t _blind_ ), and she caught a flicker of surprise on the man’s face before his scowl returned an instant later.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, standing up slowly, leaving the DVDs on the ground. “You ran into me just as much as I did to you.” So, okay, probably not the best way to talk to a patron. But it was early in the morning, Clarke was flustered and still in training, and really, “princess”? What was she, four years old?

 

The man looked taken aback again for just a moment, before glaring even harder at her. “I was waiting for you to finish so we could start this damn training. I figured you were at least competent enough to put some movies on a shelf, but I guess they don’t teach that in the Ivy League, huh, princess?”

 

“Stop calling me that,” Clarke said immediately, her neck flushing a bit in embarrassment. “My name’s Clarke.”

 

“I know,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against a pillar. “Bellamy.”

 

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Clarke spat back, reaching back down to pick up some of the DVDs, shoving them back onto the cart.

 

“You’re putting them in the wrong order,” Bellamy sighed, his voice sounding tired but still grumbly. Clarke ignored him, huffing as she continued gathering up the DVDs. “Clarke.”

 

“Blake, I swear to God, I will throw ‘The Godfather Part II’ at your head,” Clarke said with a fake-cheerful tone, brandishing the movie in question at him with a little more vigor than was strictly necessary. She didn’t know what it _was_ about this guy, but two seconds into meeting him and she already wanted to strangle him. _Maybe because he’s a colossal asshole._

 

Bellamy looked surprised again, his jaw opening just a fraction of an inch, his eyes widening an almost imperceptible amount – an expression that Clarke had decided definitely made him look like an idiot and was _definitely_ not cute at all – before his features clouded back into a scowl. Before Clarke realized what was happening, he had shuffled over to the cart and was crouched down, arranging the DVDs in the correct order.

 

Clarke saved “The Godfather Part II” for last, pointedly looking at Bellamy as she placed it (with just a _modicum_ of aggression) into its proper place on the cart. Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“So. Looks like you know your alphabet, after all,” he said, nonchalantly, as they stood up. And, if Clarke happened to run over his big toe with the cart on her way to the next section of DVDs, well, no one could prove it wasn’t a complete accident.

 

—

 

The rest of the week turned into one of the longest of Clarke’s life. Clarke had already learned most of what she was supposed to be doing in training, meaning that she had a week-long probationary period. At that point, it was basically just Bellamy’s job to supervise her. Which was, well. Extremely annoying.

 

“Leave the books sticking out from the shelf a little,” Bellamy ordered, standing at the end of the stacks with his arms crossed.

 

Clarke turned to him, confused. “I thought I’m supposed to make all the spines even with each other. Make it look nice.”

 

“You are,” Bellamy said, simply. “But I want to walk through and make sure you’re putting them in the right place.”

 

Clarke closed her eyes slowly, then opened them. Calmly, she spoke again. “It’s alphanumerical. I’ve been doing this all week.”

 

“Then you won’t mind me checking,” Bellamy said, with a smirk.

 

Clarke turned back to the books, clenching her jaw. “Be my guest.”

 

Of course, ten minutes later, Bellamy was calling her over to the stacks she had just finished shelving. Clarke cursed internally, but plastered on a fake smile. “Something wrong?”

 

“Yeah, _this_ is wrong,” Bellamy said, pointing to a book she had shelved just a few minutes before.

 

Clarke moved closer, and squinted at the call number. “This is ‘Short.’ The one after is ‘Showalter.’ How is that wrong?”

 

Bellamy smirked again. “Look at the sticker, princess. It’s a collection of Short Stories. There’s a separate section.”

 

Clarke shook her head, protesting. “I thought we got rid of that section.”

 

Bellamy’s smirk disappeared, and he furrowed his brow. “What? What are you talking about?”

 

“Lexa said we were interfiling it with the rest of fiction,” Clarke replied, now smirking a little herself. “Starting this week.”

 

“...uh,” Bellamy coughed, looking a little sheepish. “Right, I...yeah. I guess I forgot. They were gonna start that while I was out.”

 

“Yep,” Clarke said with a smile, pushing the book that she had left sticking out back into place. “And they did.”

 

“Well...okay then,” Bellamy said, trying to retain some authority in his voice. “Then...just. Carry on.”

 

Clarke couldn’t stop grinning the rest of the day. Especially when she would call Bellamy over to check every single book she shelved. Every single book, which was shelved perfectly.

 

The scowl on his face was definitely worth the extra time it took. And, the blush slowly creeping up his neck made it even _more_ worth it.

 

—

 

Over the next couple of weeks, Clarke had a mission: when the opportunity arose, do something better than Bellamy. No matter what he snarked about her background, calling her “princess,” calling into question her work ethic, Clarke knew that she was _just_ as competent as he was. She could be _more_ competent.

 

When they would pick up recently returned books from the carts inside, she would make sure her stack of books was twice as high as his. At first he didn’t notice, but eventually he started to catch on.

 

“What, you cancel your gym membership or something? Trying to get your lifting done here instead?” he called over to her, struggling with his stack of books that was now towering well past his hairline.

 

“Just trying to be productive,” Clarke replied, bracing her own pile of books. “But, you know, now that you mention it, some of us have lives outside of work and, you know, friends, so we can’t afford to spend all of our time alone in a gym.” She flashed a sarcastic grin in his direction.

 

Bellamy scoffed, and called back, “Fictional characters don’t count as friends.”

 

Clarke smiled at him, placing the last of her books in her full cart, and sashayed past him, looking contentedly at Bellamy’s cart, which wasn’t quite as full. “Fuck you,” she called back to him, cheerfully.

 

She left before she could see him smile.

 

—

 

“No way. Abso _lute_ ly not.” Clarke glared at Raven over the stack of books they were checking in together. “No,” she added again, for good measure.

 

“Oh, come _on_ , Clarke,” Raven practically whined. “I’m going to be bored out of my _mind_ if you aren’t there. We just – go in, get our drink on, scarf down some cheese fries, and then both of us will be back in bed before nine.”

 

Clarke wrinkled her nose. “Nine? Seriously?”

 

Raven smiled a bit. “I’ll buy you a drink?” She leaned over a bit to playfully punch Clarke’s shoulder. “Whaddaya say?”

 

Clarke glanced back over at Raven and sighed, unable to help smiling a little back. She’d only been at the library for two months so far but Raven was quickly becoming her closest friend in this town – aside from Wells, obviously. And it was nice to have a _girl_ friend. She loved Wells and all, but Raven was practically a godsend. She knew that, despite her joking around, Raven would actually be pretty disappointed if Clarke said no to this. And, the whole staff was invited. She should really go. Bond with her co-workers. And, really, she should be grateful that Raven even _gave_ a shit if Clarke was there – Raven grew up just down the street from the library, surely she had tons of friends she could hang out with.

 

But she wanted to hang out with Clarke. And that made Clarke feel pretty awesome.

 

There was only one problem. “It’s for _his_ birthday, though,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t go and celebrate his _birthday_. Do you think the Joker and Batman went out and cut cake together after fighting on the streets of Gotham?”

 

“So, are you Batman in this situation or – ?” Raven started, barely suppressing a smile.

 

“Do you think,” Clarke continued, dramatically brandishing a book. “Peter Pan and Hook went out for _birthday_ drinks – do you think _Harry Potter_ and _Lord Voldemort_ –”

 

“Holy shit,” Raven laughed, tossing a pad of sticky notes at Clarke. “Point taken. Look, just – you don’t even have to interact with him, really. We’ll all be there. Just show up, look hot, get some free cake, and bail. It’s a win-win.”

 

Clarke exhaled deeply, flipping through a big coffee table book on Matisse. “Yeah. No, you’re probably right, it’s – wait,” Clarke furrowed her brow. “Look hot? Why do I have to look hot?”

 

“Cause,” Raven said breezily, “It’ll piss him off.”

 

“What?” Clarke said, flushing. “Why would that – ?”

 

“Because,” Raven shrugged again. “The Joker’s not supposed to think Batman’s hot.”

 

Clarke pulled a face. “Yeah, and he doesn’t. Bellamy, I mean. I can’t really speak for the Joker. That would explain a lot, actually.”

 

Raven rolled her eyes. “P _lea_ se. You do realize that half of the arguments you two get into always start with one of you trying to impress the other, right?”

 

“ _What_?” Clarke sputtered, jaw dropping. “We do _not_ – I mean. I don’t give a shit what he thinks. He’s just a dick, and then I’m a dick back. That is the extent of our relationship. Two dicks with books.”

 

“Wow,” Raven said, scrunching up her face. “That’s an image I didn’t need.”

 

“And _anyway_ ,” Clarke said indignantly, crossing her arms, “Even if he does think I’m hot, I don’t see why dressing up for his stupid party would piss him off. I’m _always_ hot.”

 

Raven smirked. “And he’s _always_ pissed off.”

 

“That predates me,” Clarke flipped through another book. “That’s just his natural state of being.”

 

“Please, Clarke?” Raven was turned towards her fully now, looking at her genuinely. “Just for a little while.”

 

Clarke looked at Raven and sighed, running another book through the scanner. “Yeah, okay,” she relented. Raven immediately grinned, and Clarke held up one finger. “But, I’m holding you to that free drink. And it’s going to be very large. And very alcoholic.”

 

Raven grinned wider. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

—

 

Raven was wrong. About a few things, actually – the first was, that it wasn’t the _entire_ staff there. Actually, it was just her, Raven, Monty, Miller, and Bellamy. No one seemed surprised by this except Clarke, and as she approached the table in the corner where they were all gathered, she quickly realized that, though they looked happy to see her, they also looked surprised.

 

Including Bellamy. Which, was the second thing that Raven was wrong about – when Bellamy saw her (and, yes, okay, she had put in a little effort, wearing a dress with a sweeping neckline and a touch more eyeliner and lipstick than she would have worn at work – but only because she wanted to look better than him. Obviously.) he didn’t look pissed at all. He just sort of stared at her, with that open-mouthed expression that she had caught a couple times over the course of the past two weeks, only this time, his face just sort of. Stayed like that.

 

 _Okay,_ she allowed herself to think. _Maybe it is a little cute. Or it would be, if this wasn’t so fucking awkward._

 

Raven beamed, and jumped up to give Clarke a hug. “Clarke! You’re here!”

 

Clarke forced a smile, “I’m here. Hey, guys,” she smiled at Monty and Miller, who greeted her in return. She turned to Bellamy, and instinctively smiled a little wider. “Happy birthday, asshole.”

 

Bellamy’s mouth finally shut closed, and his face shifted into a bit of a grin. “Thanks, princess.”

 

––

 

Clarke’s new co-workers were _fun._

 

Raven knew the bartender from her previous job – a sandy-haired guy around their age who Raven called “Wick,” though Clarke was at least 80% sure it wasn’t his first name. He was obviously hung up on Raven, because he kept bringing them rounds of free shots, grinning at Raven while he set them down in front of her. They were about three rounds in when Miller decided he was going to do karaoke, dragging up Monty at first to sing a slightly off-key version of “Breaking Free” from High School Musical, and then choosing a solo song to dedicate to Bellamy – “I Will Always Love You.”

 

“Wow,” Clarke said, sipping at her rum and coke. “Miller’s a lightweight.”

 

Bellamy snorted, trying to pretend like he wasn’t blushing as Miller reached out an arm to point at him on the final “you” of the song. “I don’t know about that. He does this literally every year on my birthday.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Every year?”_

 

“I hated this song as a kid,” Bellamy explained, rolling his eyes at Miller as he stepped down from the karaoke platform and headed back towards the bar, with a small smile. “Too many false endings. So Miller decided this was the perfect song to torture me with on my birthday. It’s sort of a tradition, at this point.”

 

“Wait – how long have you and Miller known each other?” Clarke asked, draining the last of her drink.

 

Bellamy slid a water across the table to her. “Uh...well, third grade, so I guess. 16 years? We both grew up around here. I got the job at the library first, then when Miller got out of the navy, we had an opening.” He shrugged.

 

“The man of the hour!” Miller said, swaying a bit as he appeared back at the table, somehow carrying four beers and grinning. “How’d I do?”

 

Bellamy grinned back at him, taking one of the glasses out of his arms. “Yeah, don’t quit your day job.”

 

Clarke snorted, then took a beer for herself, glancing back over towards the karaoke, where Raven and Monty were currently arguing over what duet they were going to do – Clarke was pretty sure Raven wanted to do some Beyoncé. Her first day at the library, Raven had made a point of showing Clarke where all of the biographies on Beyoncé were kept, including the ones in the kids non-fiction section.

 

“Bell!” Clarke turned towards the voice that came from practically across the room – a girl probably about her age, who was strikingly beautiful with long dark hair and eyes that seemed to sparkle as she grinned wider. Clarke glanced over towards Bellamy, whose face seemed to fill with warmth as he saw her, and he sprang to his feet to give her a hug.

 

Clarke watched them hug, intrigued, before Octavia turned to her, smiling brightly. “Hey! I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Octavia.”

 

“Clarke,” she replied, smiling back. Octavia’s eyes immediately widened, and she immediately turned around towards Bellamy, whose face – Clarke was _sure_ she wasn’t imagining this – was tinted several shades of pink darker. Clarke almost expected some sort of comment from Octavia, but she merely turned back around, her smile just slightly more smug, and said kindly. “It’s nice to meet you, Clarke. I’m Bell’s sister.”

 

––

 

There was another thing that Raven was wrong about, in describing the events which would take place that evening. And that was that it entailed much more than “show up, cut cake, and leave.”

 

Octavia’s boyfriend showed up a few minutes after she did and as soon as he arrived, O _insisted_ that they all go to a new club that just opened up downtown. Clarke was shooting Raven dirty looks as they all packed into an uber car together, but she didn’t seem to notice, choosing to text furiously on her phone instead for most of the ride over.

 

Bellamy was grinning most of the car ride home, laughing at something his sister or Miller said, his eyes bright and shining. Clarke was pretty sure he must have been extremely intoxicated – the Bellamy she knew from work never _smiled_. And, he certainly never went to clubs with his sister and half of his co-workers for a fun night out on his birthday.

 

And yet, here they were.

 

Clarke was not new to the club scene – she’d been a bit of a party girl in undergrad, she wasn’t embarrassed to admit it, and sometimes she just wanted to go out onto a dance floor and sweat near an anonymous, attractive stranger.

 

But there was something about being here that felt brand new to her. The people she was with, obviously, but there was something heavy weighing on her chest as Raven dragged her out onto the dance floor. Clarke kept feeling her eyes glance over towards Bellamy, who was sitting by the bar. He wasn’t alone, exactly, but mostly their friends would just come over to chat for a moment before heading back out towards the dance floor. Bellamy wasn’t dancing. And he might not have been her favorite person in the world, but it _was_ his birthday, and that’s what she kept telling herself as she pulled away from the dance floor, promising Raven that she’d return later for a dance.

 

––

 

“So. Get any good presents?” Clarke said by way of greeting, sidling into the stool next to Bellamy at the bar.

 

He lifted his head towards her, surprised, before he smiled softly at her. “O got me a subscription to this audiobooks website. I get a free one each month for a year.”

 

Clarke found herself grinning at that. “Nerd,” she said with a grin, stealing a sip from his drink, ignoring his sounds of protests. She furrowed her brow and glanced down at the soda. “Is this…?”

 

“A coke?” Bellamy supplied, looking at her as though daring her to make fun of him. “Yeah.”

 

Clarke looked at the drink, then back at him, and shrugged. “Nice.” She grabbed the straw with her teeth and took another long sip, dripping soda from the end of the straw as Bellamy grabbed the glass back from her.

 

(He was smiling though, she noticed. And laughing a little.)

 

(She might have been, too).

 

––

 

Three hours and a half dozen drinks later, she’s still at the club, and everything is beginning to look a bit fuzzy. She was on the dance floor now, after Bellamy caught her longingly looking out towards the gaggle of bodies pulsing to the rhythm and rolled his eyes, assuring her that she could leave him alone for a couple of songs, that O was going to want to go home soon anyway and he’d want to stick around until she left, anyway.

 

After a song and a half, Clarke glanced over the shoulder of the hot brunette she’s been dancing with, back over at Bellamy, and saw him catch her eye quickly with a faint smile and then quickly look away. Clarke grinned. She was back at his side nearly instantly, and pulling him towards the dance floor, despite his many loud protests.

 

“I don’t _dance_ , Clarke,” he half-shouted over the music through gritted teeth, an almost panicked expression in his eyes.

 

Clarke laughed, and pulled him close, her heart stuttering when his chest accidentally bumped into hers. “Just one dance,” she promised, noticing how strongly her own breath smelled of alcohol. “It’s your birthday.”

 

Bellamy looked at her with a strange expression, then nodded slowly, glancing around. “ _One_ dance,” he said, reluctantly.

 

––

 

They danced for what seemed like hours.

 

Clarke had tried to let him off the hook after one dance, but his face was decidedly less grumpy, with the same brightness in his eyes that she had seen when Octavia had arrived earlier that evening. He was having _fun._

 

“I love this song!” He yelled over the rhythm of some obscure pseudo-dubstep song that blared over the speakers, and Clarke couldn’t do anything but laugh, because of course he did.

 

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” she said, and he grinned at her, pulling her closer to him. Clarke’s cheek fell against his chest, and she felt him tense for a moment before he leaned against her.

 

They were dancing much too slowly for the rhythm, but Clarke didn’t mind. Bellamy seemed not to mind, either.

 

He did seem to mind fifteen minutes later, when Clarke was puking in the alley behind the club. But, he didn’t seem annoyed or disgusted, just – genuinely concerned. Which made Clarke’s stomach feel weird for reasons unrelated to the nausea.

 

“Oh my god,” she groaned, steadying one arm against the wall of the club while Bellamy wrapped his arm around her waist to help keep her balanced. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

 

“No, it’s – don’t be,” Bellamy replied gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Are you okay? Let me – have you drank any water recently? When’s the last time you ate something?”

 

Clarke blamed the warm feeling that ran through her on the amount of alcohol she had consumed. “I could probably use some water,” she admitted.

 

Bellamy nodded in agreement, a determined look on his face.

 

––

 

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure how (wow, the alcohol really was starting to hit her) but she somehow wound up in the front seat of a warm car, a blanket wrapped around her, and an unopened bottle of water and a Luna bar in her hands.

 

“Where to?” Bellamy asked, quickly shutting off what Clarke vaguely recognized as the start of a podcast blaring over his speakers. She was a little too befuddled to think of something snarky to say about it, though, and honestly, wanted to cry a little bit at how gentle Bellamy’s voice sounded. She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like her address, and dozed off to sleep.

 

When she woke, Bellamy’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and he was gently saying her name. “Clarke, this is it, come on. We’re here. Let’s get you inside.”

 

Clarke tried to reply, but the only words that come out of her mouth are something like: “Mmpf. Warm.”

 

She registered Bellamy huffing out a small laugh as he helped her towards her door, helped her get her keys, helped her walk up stairs, helped her take off her shoes, fucking _tucked_ her into _bed_ (making sure that she was laying on her side, a trash can placed at the side of her bed) and said something along the lines of, “Let me know if you need anything, I won’t be far,” which confused her a little because she was pretty sure that he lived on the other side of town, but whatever.

 

Clarke drifted into a dreamless sleep.

 

––

 

Clarke’s first thought upon waking up was, _fuck_.

 

Her second thought was, _why did I sleep in this dress, these straps fucking_ kill.

 

Her third thought was, _how did I even get home last night._

 

And that was when she remembered. She shot straight up out of bed, wincing as she heard her back crack in about fifty different places. Her eyes darted across the room in a frenzy, and she felt her throat go dry, her stomach filling with a warm, pleasant sensation, when her gaze reached the corner of the room.

 

Bellamy was curled up in the chair next to her bookshelf, fast asleep, his mouth wide open and his neck bent in a nearly inhuman position that would almost certainly be sore when he woke up. The reading lamp on the side table next to him was turned on, and Clarke’s own worn copy of _Beowulf_ was open and resting against his chest, moving up and down with his soft breaths.

 

Clarke rubbed at her eyes as she slowly got out of bed and tip-toed over to the chair where Bellamy was sleeping. _He stayed all night_ , she thought to herself, carefully reaching towards the book to rest it gently on the table beside him. She stood in front of Bellamy for a moment, contemplating whether to wake him up – he looked so peaceful, and she was absolutely _filled_ with gratefulness for how meticulously he made sure she was okay last night. But, the position he was sleeping in would certainly fuck up his neck the longer he was in it, and so she sighed as she gently shook his shoulder.

 

Bellamy awoke with a loud snore and fluttering eyelids, and Clarke’s stomach swooped. She bit her lip, peering at him as she saw him look around, confused for a moment, before locking eyes with her. He gave her a small smile.

 

“Morning, princess,” he said, wincing as he straightened up and cracked his neck. “Glad to see you didn’t puke your guts out again.”

 

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, reaching out a hand towards him, her eyes full of sincerity. “ _Thank_ you.”

 

Bellamy looked startled at that, and his eyes lingered on her hand over his for a moment before he looked back at her, his cheeks just a shade pinker than they had been before. He shook his head after a moment, giving a small shrug. “It was nothing.”

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow, giving him a level look. “Okay, seriously? You made sure I had food and water, made sure I got home, and then stayed to make sure I was okay, probably giving yourself a semi-permanent neck condition. That is _not_ nothing. You saved my drunk ass.”

 

Bellamy opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it after a moment. He gave another shrug, with a small smile. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. It was nothing, seriously, I do it for O all the time. Or, well –” he gave Clarke a wry smile. “She sort of grew out of getting smashed at clubs after her sophomore year of college, but, you know, we all move at different paces.” He grinned, and Clarke’s stomach swooped again because he was _teasing_ her, after she pretty much turned into a pile of drunk jello and _must_ have ruined his night and – _fuck._ Clarke’s eyes widened as she remembered.

 

“It was your birthday!” She said, her face dropping into an even more mortified expression. “Oh my god, Bellamy, I’m _so_ –”

 

Bellamy held up a hand, raising an amused eyebrow back at her. “Don’t apologize, Clarke. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and the only way I could know was to make sure myself. It was totally selfish.” He grinned when Clarke sputtered in protest, but interrupted her. “Besides,” he said, and then hesitated for a moment. His grin faltered for just a second, before he swallowed, and gave her a small smile. “Dancing with you was fun. Made up for it.”

 

Clarke felt her face burn, and forced a cough so that she could cover her cheeks with her elbow. There was silence for a moment, before Bellamy spoke again.

 

“Listen,” he said, and his voice wavered a bit. He looked at her steadily, and sincerely. “I was a dick to you when we met. I’d just had three weeks that were... well. It doesn’t matter, really, it’s not – I’m not trying to make excuses. I just – I was an asshole. But...I just. Want you to know that I actually...I think you’re pretty cool, so,” he scratched behind his neck, his face redder too now, and _good_ , Clarke thought, _at least I’m not the only one_. Clarke looked at him for half a moment, thinking back to all he had done for her the night before. The way he’d pretended to look embarrassed when Miller sang to him, but had a pleased, happy look in his eyes, the way he lit up when his sister walked in the room, the way he’d spoken to Clarke civilly all night, danced with her, made sure she got home safe, _waited_ to make sure she was okay – and now was sitting here, telling Clarke that he thought she was cool.

 

Clarke didn’t understand anything about Bellamy Blake. She’d thought she had, but, well. She was wrong. And she was starting to realize it.

 

Clarke regarded him for a moment, taking a small joy in the way his eyes nervously darted between hers, waiting for her to say something. She leaned back a little, and gave him a small smile.

 

“Truce?” She offered, holding her hand out for him to shake.

 

He glanced down at her hand, then back towards her face, and let out a breath. He smiled. “Truce.”

 

And if their hands lingered for a moment too long, well –– Clarke would just blame it on the fact that they were both tired. And she  _had_ to make him breakfast, right? It was only polite, really.


End file.
